


Let the Right One Sin

by Swanns_Gay



Category: But really just One Direction, One Direction (Band), The Venture Bros
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Crack, Alternate Universe - Super Hero, Blatant Theft of Venture Bros Dialogue, Boys Kissing, Crack Crossover, Crime Fighting, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, M/M, Magic, Mild Language, Paperwork, Pining, Play Fighting, Secret Identity, Sparring, Super Villains, Swearing, Telekinesis, Tour Bus, Unrequited Crush, Venture Bros Crossover AU, bus 1, super heroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 19:03:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1910229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swanns_Gay/pseuds/Swanns_Gay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In this week's adventure…<br/>Louis gets approved for an arch villain<br/>Harry gets a sexy assignment<br/>Grimshaw can't take a hint</p><p>Prepare yourself for card tricks! Dated electronics! Paperwork! And scheduling mishaps!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let the Right One Sin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> For this prompt: Superheroes AU. Louis is a reckless superhero who usually causes more harm than help, Harry is the slightly sketchy super-spy/federal agent in charge of getting Louis to clean up his act.
> 
> I do not own One Direction, The Venture Bros, or any affiliated properties. 
> 
> Please to be enjoying this. Writing fight scenes is wow like crazy hard, so sorry if it makes no sense. Also, I hope the humor translates even if you've never watch the Venture Bros. Here goes nothing!

_It’s 4am when Megamind returns to his lair, aching from a long night of defending the city. He pulls off his mask, the rubber having left an impression across the bridge of his nose, and unzips his Lycra and Kevlar super suit. He peels it off his body as he moves through the shadowy corridor of his darkened hideout. Though his body is exhausted, his mind is still abuzz. He needs a buffer between work and sleep. Perhaps a few hours with his state of the art Simulation Station will provide the necessary cooldown. He seats himself opposite the screen and takes the controls in hand. Light palely illuminates Megamind’s muscular body when he switches on the machine.  “EA Sports. It’s in the game.” Ah, FIFA. The perfect end to a perfect night._

___

It’s roughly 8am now and Louis is in the middle of smashing Italy on his Xbox when he hears wrapping on the door of Bus 1, his super secret hideout. He doesn’t so much as pause the game when he waves at the door, causing it to fly open. His mum climbs onto the bus and gives him a look of surprise.

“Louis! I didn’t expect you to actually be awa— for god’s sake, don’t you ever tidy this place?” she says, motioning at the mountains of laundry amidst however many weeks’ worth of take away boxes litter every inch of his hideout. “Your clubhouse looks like a squatter’s den.”

“Bus 1 is not a clubhouse,” Louis sighs. “We’ve been over this, it’s my—what is that?” he asks, nodding at the parcel his mum is holding. She’s still eyeing her surroundings warily like she expects a live animal to be lurking just beneath the surface of detritus.

“Someone delivered it for you at the house. Strange chap in techno goggles or something,” she says distractedly.

Louis pauses FIFA and makes grabby hands at it. The parcel is plucked from her fingers and floats over to Louis. It’s wrapped in brown paper and emblazoned with a sick looking dragon crested with laurels. Bold lettering encircles the emblem and reads “The Moderated Union of Menace”. Louis sits bolt upright.

“You’d think someone with telekinesis would keep a tidier clubhouse,” his mother continues, completely unaware that Louis is having a minor heart attack as she starts gathering up stray socks and pants. “Wouldn’t even have to get up, just, I don’t know, magic it all into the bin where it goes…”

Louis just rips the paper away, adding to the mess, and revealing a clunky black cassette. _The fuck is this,_ he wonders, turning it over in his hands.

His mum has now produced a bin liner from god knows where and is sifting around his piles, still intoning her disapproval for the state he keeps his clubhouse—no, _lair_ —when she sees him rattling the cassette. “Ha! A VHS tape? Gracious, do people still make those? I think we must still have some in the attic. Can’t _give_ the things away these days.”

Louis waves at the bin liner, whisking it out of his mother’s hands. She tuts. “ _Mum._ Do we have, like, a player for this? It’s important.”

Thirty minutes later, they’ve descended the attic ladder carrying a faded VCR coated with decades’ worth of dust, Louis’ first football trophy, and an old stack of comic books.

“How did I not know we had a fucking treasure trove up there?” Louis demands after sifting through heaps of boxes filled mostly with junk they’d all forgotten about. If he hears his mother’s exasperated sigh, he chooses to ignore it.

Louis plants himself on the sofa in his mother’s den and suspends eight or so comics up in the air in front of him, turning the pages of them slowly so he can peruse their contents, precious football trophy cradled in his lap, while his mum tries to figure out how to hook up the VCR.

Once blue static is displayed on the screen, she pushes the cassette into the slot and the same dragon emblem he’d seen on the wrapper fills their television. The picture is grainy and the midi music playing through the speakers crackles a bit. He and his mum snort at the dated presentation, but Louis still gives it his full attention. The music, if you can call it that, fades and the picture switches to a shot of two men who appear to be half robot or something standing in a darkened control room of sorts.

“Greetings [Megamind and team]. You have been approved for your own M.U.M certified supervillain,” the robot-man on the left says in a high, strained voice.

“Here at the Moderated Union of Menace, your nemesis is our business,” states the other. They speak in a stilted kind of way. Not robot stilted. More like reading-this-off-a-cue-card stilted. Louis and his mum chuckle at each other with shared bemused expressions. “But don’t take our word for it,” the robot-man continues. “Right Director?”

“That’s right Devine,” rumbles a shadowy face on the monitor behind the two bad actors. “I’m sure we can show [Megamind and team] just what kind of misplaced havoc finding your own costumed supervillain can bring. Just watch.”

A hokey montage follows depicting the “perils of unlicensed aggression”, which apparently equates to family dinners being interrupted, big strong guys being matched up with puny opponents, and creepy, one-sided sexual advances. Louis and his mum are practically in tears from laughing. So much so that Louis nearly misses the left robot-man now telling him that his “scheduled screening will take place at the time specified.”

A card flashes on the screen that reads:

_Megamind and a team of 2-4 theme-appropriate colleagues have been scheduled for a villain screening_

_Date: Today_

_Time: 4pm_

_Location: Doncaster Central Learning Centre_

A voice over on the video concludes, “And thank you for choosing the Moderated Union of Menace as the instrument of your demise.”

Louis lunges for the VCR and mashes pause. “Today? Today?! How am I supposed to assemble a team by this afternoon? I haven’t even slept yet!”

“Louis, are you actually taking this seriously?” his mum calls, still wiping her eyes and giggling, but he is already flying out the door.

X

“Now check it out,” Zayn’s Bradford drawl instructs nonchalantly. He opens the girl’s drink lid and pulls out a five of clubs. “Was this your card?”

Louis watches the girl and her friends titter and squeal from the sidelines of the boardwalk. They tip him generously (there may have been a phone number in there as well) and scamper off. Zayn stuffs the wad in his jeans and pulls out a cigarette.

“I know you’re there, idiot. I have like, heightened cosmic awareness and shit,” he says as he lights it with a snap of his fingers, not even bothering to look up.

Louis hops down from the post he was perching on. “A fat lot of good that’s doing you. An actual wizard and you’re working the boardwalk doing card tricks. Aren’t you bored?”

Zayn shrugs. “Just fell into it. Gotta pay my rent somehow. What’re you doing out here anyway. Thought you were the sleep-until-lunch type.”

Louis plucks the cigarette from Zayn’s fingers and takes a drag. He glares at the horizon as he does so, trying to look as cool as possible. “Oh you know, just here to extend an invitation from the Moderated Union of Menace.”

Zayn’s eyebrows shoot up. “Get out! Approval? A name brand arch enemy?”

“That’s right,” Louis says, puffing his chest out proudly. “Looks like someone’s caught the eye of the X Faction and now M.U.M. are ready to play too. You in?”

“Bro. I am SO in.”

X

Louis and Zayn climb the steps of an old brick building and are just approaching the door when it swings open revealing a slender dark-haired beauty kissing the cherubic face of their favorite bleach blonde Irishman. “Thanks again,” she whispers, squeezing his bicep. Louis and Zayn step aside to let her pass, smiling as she goes.

“The Craic, I presume,” Louis intones.

“Louis! You old bag of salt crackers, how are you?” the pink-cheeked young man says, throwing his arms around Louis’ neck, then Zayn’s. “How long has it been?”

“Too long my friend.”

“I called it!” Zayn boasts. “Still getting in bar fights and banging hot chicks. I see that. Right there.”

“If by ‘getting in bar fights’ you mean saving unsuspecting women from being victimized by showers of cunts, then yes I am doing just that. Their gratitude is just the icing on the cake. If I can prevent one act of violence against women, then my life will have meaning.”

Louis lets out a low whistle. “Noble! I feel sort of stupid for asking this now. We are thinking of reforming the Architects of Order. I- _we_ have been approved for an arch villain.”

“Great! I’m in,” the Craic answers immediately.

“But what about your most important work?”

“I need the publicity! Nothing gets the people in your corner like that hero crap.”

Louis gives Zayn an imperious look. “See?”

“What, I’m here aren’t I?”

“Plus, fighting one sexist at a time can only spread a message so far. Plus there’s no money in it. Just pussy.”

X

“Hey Styles, rumor mill has it that Megamind is getting assigned a handler. Know anything about that?”

Harry looks up from the green screen of his ancient computer to see his colleague, a private in the X Faction affectionately known as Private Pains, leaning against the doorframe to his office. Relieved to have a distraction, he leans back in his chair. Policing the super scientists and heroes of the world generates a metric fuck-tonne of paperwork to account for all the collateral damage. Definitely not Harry’s favorite part of the job.

“Megamind?” he chuckles. “That telekinetic troublemaker? What’s he need a handler for?”

Private Pains, or rather Liam Payne, nudges away from the door and plops into a guest chair opposite Harry. He is a super soldier all ‘round, but has the natural pout of a puppy and the big brown eyes to match. Harry, being equally baby faced, had gravitated toward him for support when he’d joined the X Faction, and together they have forged quite a reputation for efficiency despite all odds.

“Word is he’s been approved for an arch, provided he can assemble a team in time. And a little birdie just informed me that a one Mr. Harry Styles is—”

“STYLES,” booms a big voice, cutting Liam off at the quick. They both stand at attention. Into the room strides an enormous man in full gear and aviator sunglasses. He slaps a thick folder on Harry’s desk. “You’ve got an assignment. Get acquainted with this dossier and report to me at 0900 hours. And put your game face on goddamit. Ya look like a fucking china doll for Christ’s sake.”

Without another word, Paul, their commanding officer, stomps out of the office. Liam and Harry slowly turn back to face each other, eyes wide.

“…is getting the assignment,” Liam finishes timidly.

Harry lets out a small sigh and sits back down, opening the folder and sifting through the pages, now and again coming across a photograph of Megamind in his pale blue and black suit and mask. It looks good on him, but Harry knows these suits can be deceptive. Well-placed padding ends up looking like muscles they don’t have. Utility belts hide the paunch. And so on. Can’t even trust the good guys anymore. He continues perusing the reports.

“Jesus, are we sure Megamind is even a good guy? Look at this record! He saved a mechanic trapped under a vehicle, but threw the car through a storefront window and injured six people. –Oh my god, did you know he ejected a robber from a convenience store but _into_ a jewelry shop? Guy made off with 10k in diamonds! What a hack!”

“I heard he still lives with his mum,” Liam chuckled. “Any idea who he’s going to get to join his team? Tell me he’s best mates with The American Spirit, that would be hilarious. Can you imagine? A giant Indian and that little squirt bursting out of smoke clouds and raising a ruckus! You’d be buried in paperwork!”

“Heyyyy, it’s Native American not Indian. That’s racist _Private Pains_ ,” Harry reprimands, though Liam is still guffawing at his own joke and hardly hears him, so Harry continues skimming the dossier. He turns over a page and sees a photograph clipped to a report showing Megamind’s civilian profile. His eyes widen.

“Liam. _Liam,_ get a grip. Have you ever seen Megamind without his mask on?”

Private Payne wipes his eyes and gives one last half-hearted hiccup of laughter before answering. “Don’t think so. Why, is he cute?”

Harry holds up the report to show his colleague.

“Ruh-roh Shaggy,” Liam teases in an appalling Scooby-Doo voice.

 _Ruh-roh indeed,_ Harry thinks to himself. This was not a contingency he had planned on. _Civilian Identity: Louis Tomlinson,_ he reads silently. _Age: 24, Ability: telekinesis, Lair: inoperable tour bus, Residence: middle class bungalow with mother_

_Status: yummy as fuck, Cheekbones: like knives, Jaw: delicately chiseled, Hair: begging to be pulled on. By me._

Harry may be sweating at this point. He continues sifting through the file.

“Oh would you look at this,” Harry says with a smirk. “Potential teammates include that fit magician you’re obsessed with.”

Liam lets out a moose howl of despair while Harry just points and laughs.

X

Louis, Zayn, and Niall are seated behind a trestle table with stacks of applications in front of them. The line of potential arches stretches all the way out the front door of the community center and halfway around the block. They’ve been at this for an hour now and have yet to be wowed.

“Well, thank you very much. We will keep your application on file,” Louis says for the hundredth time and tries not to sound bored and waits for the man in scuba gear to exit out the side door.

“Did that guy seriously have a rudder on his head?” Zayn whispers.

The double doors of the meeting room burst open just as they summon the next applicant and the three lads all collectively groan. _The Grimm,_ Louis thinks hatefully. _Of course the fucking Grimm is here._ In all the hubbub, Louis had completely forgotten to expect the snot nosed brat who had been trying to arch him since college.

“Tomlinson,” The Grim greets him with an oily smile. He’s a tall man with a mess of curls perched atop his long face. His gangly frame is dressed in an all black suit and a billowing black fur cloak. And… were those ears sewn to the hood? Absurd.

“Grimshaw,” Louis grits back.

“Took you long enough,” the would-be nemesis taunts as he twirls a chair on one leg before sliding onto the seat and leaning back casually. “We were queuing for ages. But then I guess you had to assemble your (snicker) _team.”_

The Craic suddenly suffers a small coughing fit which sounds remarkably like “ _cough_ jealous _cough.”_

The Grim just sniffs smugly.

“Let’s cut to the chase,” he sneers. “I am the obvious choice here. I have the vendetta, the drive, and the capital to keep you lot on your toes for many happy years to come. Provided I don’t vanquish you in the first encounter, of course. So send all these chumps home and make it official. You’re _my_ arch, Tomlinson. Admit it.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “While I applaud you for going through the proper channels for once,” he says, perusing the application in front of him held up primly by his fingertips, “I just don’t see that you are, ah, _qualified_ to fill this position.” The other members of the Architects stifle their giggles behind their hands. They have each been witnesses to Nick Grimshaw’s strange fixation on arching Louis over the years. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t relishing the opportunity to reject him on paper this time. Louis peers over the top of the form to see Grimmy’s lips pursed in a taut line. “But we will keep your application on file.”

The Grimm stands and kicks the chair aside. “How dare you belittle my wrath like this you—you!! Arrgh!!” He throws down his fist and a burst of black smoke erupts from the floor obscuring him from view. The Architects just sit there patiently as the smoke clears. The Grimm is still standing there lamely.

“Was something supposed to happen?” Niall stage whispers to Louis and Zayn. They shrug.

Grimshaw walks to the side exit, shoulders hunched. He stops at the door and declares, “You haven’t seen the last of me, _Megamind!”_

The three lads applaud his exit and whoop and holler when his cloak gets shut in the door.

“What a tit,” Zayn says, wiping at his eyes as their giggles die down.

Twenty more minutes pass and just as many villains are dismissed. Stretching out his aching back, Louis beckons the next applicant, or rather applicants, in. They are a duo, a man who resembles a young Riff Raff from Rocky Horror and a lithe woman who judging by her eye makeup clearly listens to a lot of Siouxsie and the Banshees. Appropriately, their application reads “Louise and the Banshee”. They forego the offer of a chair, opting to stand, looking battle ready. They seem fun.

“All right Louise, Banshee,” he nods between them. “What sort of menace do you think you can offer the Architects of Order?”

The Banshee is giggling quietly, but maniacally. Louise flips her hair over her shoulder. “We’ve stolen your football trophy,” she declares.

“Balls!” Zayn exclaims, shooting up out of his chair. “Brass balls!”

“You’ve stolen MY TROPHY!” Louis rages.

“We have a winner,” Niall claps

X

Harry was traipsing through the slightly overgrown grass leading up to Megamind’s “secret hideout” and trying not to make too many prejudgments. Maybe Megamind, Louis, just wasn’t into material shit. However, a broken down tour bus in his mum’s backyard was not exactly “theme appropriate”. It didn’t even have a custom paintjob. The Faction would require a bit more attention to detail if the Architects of Order were to be taken seriously, and Harry really wanted this job to be successful. It could be a game changer for him amongst his colleagues. Harry finds himself faced with the entrance where “Bus 1” is scrawled on a sheet of construction paper and taped to the window from the inside. He takes a deep breath and knocks.

The door swings open and reveals—well, no one. He steps tentatively inside. The place is a mess. And there is decidedly nothing “lair” or “hideout” or even “home base” about it. It’s just a messy boy’s room, though there is a rather impressive hero suit hanging in one corner. Harry has his work cut out for him.

“Mum, thank god. I need some asprin—Who the fuck are you?” Louis and Harry eye each other for a moment, Louis from the end of the hall leading to the back room where he was obviously sleeping only moments ago, Harry from the entrance. Louis is clad only in a pair of slouchy plaid pajama bottoms hanging dangerously low on his hips. Christ. For being a slob and a bit of a fuck up, Louis is fit as hell. Not bulky, just tight and toned with curvy hips and golden skin. Harry swallows.

“I’m Special Agent Harry Styles. The X Faction has assigned me to get you and your team up to code with our regulations now that you have been granted an official arch from M.U.M.” Harry produces his credentials and Louis shuffles sleepily over to him to examine them. He guides Harry’s hand close to his face, squinting, then to arm’s length and opens his eyes wide. He lets go.

“Oh screw it,” he says through a yawn. “I believe you. Come on in. Sorry, had a late night. Celebrating. Tea?”

“Uh, yes thank you.” Harry ducks into the banquette and lays a file and handbook on the table while Louis putters around the kitchenette making tea and eating a stray biscuit from the cupboard.

“So what’s your power then?” Louis asks, his back still turned. He fills two cups with boiling water and waves them over to the table, finally turning and leaning against the counter.

Harry stares for a moment. Louis’ telekinesis is far steadier than he’d been expecting, what with all the mishaps he’d caused in the past. The cups had moved smoothly and set down without a sound. Impressive. “What makes you think I have super power?”

Louis shrugs one shoulder. “I can just tell. So come on,” he urges, sliding into the seat opposite Harry. “Spill.”

Harry takes a small sip of his tea and makes a pleased hum at how good it is. “There’s nothing to spill. I haven’t got one. Now, let’s go over the handbook first. You need to familiarize yourself with our rules and regulations.”

Harry begins briefing Louis over each section of the rulebook. It’s dry and he expects Louis to fuss about being bored, but every time he looks up to make sure Louis is paying attention, he meets his eyes. He’s embarrassed to admit he stammers a couple times when this happens. By the time they get through the insurance paperwork Harry is flustered by Louis’ unmoving gaze.

“Do you have something to say?” he asks impatiently.

“You’re lying.”

“Excuse me?”

“You _do_ have a super power. Tell me what it is.”

Harry drops the training schedule he was about to go over and gives Louis an incredulous glare. “Are you serious? We have been at this for over an hour. Have you even been paying attention?”

“Yeah, I get it. Color schemes, theatrics, don’t get killed and whatnot. You’re embarrassed aren’t you? You won’t tell me what your power is because it sucks.”

Harry sighs. “We are supposed to move on to this training schedule. Can we just focus please?”

“Oh come on, I have telekinesis and my arches only have gadgets. I hardly think they’re going to be a match for me. They are stealthy though; I’ll give them that. Still have my football trophy…” he mutters darkly.

Harry sniffs and leans back in his seat. “You can’t just rely solely on a super power. I’ve seen magical people get taken down by villains who were armed with nothing but brawn. Same will happen to you if you don’t train up. You don’t exactly have the best track record as it is.”

“I do just fine!”

“Your file says otherwise and that’s just in dealings with civilians. You have an arch now, Louis. Their entire focus will be on besting you at every turn. This is not up for debate. You want a hero license, you have to train. Those are the rules.”

Louis slouches in the booth. “Tell me your super power,” he says petulantly. Harry smirked. Persistent little shit.

“No.”

“Ha! So you admit that you have one!” Fuck. “I’m getting closer. All right, tell you what. I’ll spar you for it. Think my moves aren’t up to snuff? Give me a chance to prove it. And if I win, you have to tell me what your power is. What do you say?”

Louis extends his hand. Harry frowns at it, but eases back when he looks up at Louis’ triumphant smile. He really is very pretty. And ornery. And that may account for why on god’s green earth Harry would shake his hand and say, “Deal.”

It all seems to happen in slow motion. Louis makes a motion with his hands like he’s turning the wheel of a pirate ship, and Harry’s whole world tilts. No, the whole _bus_ tilts. And Louis leaps from his seat, suspended in the air as their surroundings roll sideways, the groan of it deafening. Harry slips on the bench toward the window and has no time to react. Louis kicks off the opposite wall with one foot, pivots midair and lunges. It’s as if Harry blinks and he’s on his back, the bus is on its side, and Louis has him well and truly pinned, knees on Harry’s shoulders, one hand around his neck, the other poised to knock Harry’s nose into his sinuses.

He’s not even out of breath.

“Tell me your super power.” Then that shirtless little shit fucking _winks._

Stunned into silence, Harry takes in the change of scenery peripherally without taking his eyes off Louis. All the contents of the bus have emptied onto the side now acting as the floor. Papers and debris flutter around them, falling slowly as everything settles as if the bus were a freshly shaken snowglobe. The curtains are waving faintly, reaching forward, allowing the late morning sun to pour in and give Louis a gorgeous halo.

Harry slowly wraps one hand around Louis’ wrist. The other grabs a plastic cup by his head and he tosses it blindly, letting it ricochet off the sideways kitchen sink.

_Harry slowly wraps one hand around Louis’ wrist. The other grabs a plastic cup by his head and he tosses it blindly, letting it ricochet off the sideways kitchen sink._

Louis blinks. “What just happened?”

“That’s my super power,” Harry answers simply.

“Wha—”

“I can turn back time by three seconds. It’s more like déjà vu though. Since I can’t change anything, see. Just relive it.”

Louis sits up and contemplates this for a moment. Then his face breaks into an impish smile and he throws back his head and laughs.

“What a shit super power!” he guffaws. “What use is that?!”

“Heyyy,” Harry scolds. “Shut your face!”

“Or what?” Louis chokes out through his uncontrollable laughter. “You’ll fight me again?”

Harry grins. “Yes.”

X

In a flash, Harry shoves Louis at his center of gravity and catapults him backwards with both feet. Unable to gain proper footing in the overturned bus, Louis makes a pulling motion with his arms and the bus rights itself, throwing Harry and the rest of the bus’ contents forward. Harry lands on his feet and Louis rolls between his legs, popping up to standing. Harry seems ready for it though and blindly sweeps a leg behind him, catching Louis at the ankles, causing him to fall. Louis reaches for a bin several feet away and magically it flies forward and collides with Harry’s skull. He shakes his head, sending his curls swirling beautifully around his face. There’s a glint in Harry’s big green eyes when he summersaults over Louis and grabs the nearest blunt object to him—a stoneware coffee mug, and swings at Louis’ face. He blocks it just in time. Both men are smiling maniacally, hungry for a real match, daring each other silently to bring everything they’ve got.

This couldn’t have gone better if he’d planned it. The second Louis had laid eyes on Special Agent Styles, looking delicious in that uniform, he was itching to get his hands on him. And what better foreplay for two action-oriented men than a good scrap? Answer: there wasn’t one.

“PEEK-A-BOO ARCHITECTS,” booms a woman’s voice, magnified over a loud speaker. Louis and Harry freeze mid-strike and turn their attention to the interruption. They both scramble for the window and throw back the curtains.

Louise and the Banshee are standing in Louis’ backyard, stances threatening. Louise has a microphone in one hand and what looks like a hair dryer in the other. Flames shoot from the barrel of the dryer and she proceeds to burn a kind of Eye of Horus into Louis’ (well, Louis’ _mum’s)_ back garden lawn.

“COME OUT HERE AND FACE ME! IF YOU DARE!” she shouts into the microphone.

“Hey!” Louis shouts back and trips over himself getting to the door. He stops and reaches for something on the back wall. His super suit flies into his hands and he wastes no time pulling off his pajama bottoms and hastily tugging the suit on. He does not dare look at Agent Styles. Once he’s suited up, mask only slightly crooked, he wrenches the door open just in time to see a black sports car plough through the side fence and do a donut in the middle of the smoldering grass. Louise and the Banshee dive out of the way. The driver’s side door flies open and the Grimm bursts out, already out of breath.

“Look upon the face of doom and cower before me!!” the Grimm screams, gasping for air. “For I am… THE GRIMMMM!”

The Grimm throws a golden record like a discus, sending it hurtling toward Louis. He ducks and pivots on the balls of his feet just in time to see that Harry is unwittingly stepping toward the open door of Bus 1. He flings his right hand up in the air and uses his telekinetic force to knock the razor sharp disk out of the air, causing it to miss Harry’s neck by mere millimeters. All the same, Harry leaps back and lands on his arse, a look of terror fixed upon his perfect face.

Louis rounds on their attackers, blood boiling. “What in the _hell_ do you three think you are doing?!” he demands.

Louise and the Banshee look at each other, then at the Grimm, then at Louis. “We’re here for our scheduled arching mission?”

“The fuck you are!” Louis shrieks. “I’m in the middle of a meeting!”

“No, no. I have it right here,” the Banshee calls while he rifles around in his pockets and produces a folded sheet of paper. He and Louise huddle over it for a moment.

“Ah shit,” she groans into her hand. “Sorry! Our bad. Read the date wrong. All right Tom, pack up. See, this is why you should cross your sevens. This looks like a 12.” She turns back to Louis and shouts across the carnage. “We’ll see you the middle of next week. Oh, and this guy’s not with us,” she says gesturing at the Grimm. “Surely this won’t require an official complaint to M.U.M. right? Honest mistake. See you on the 17th!”

She and the Banshee gather up their amp and mic and lumber off through the massive hole the Grimm has put in Louis’ fence.

“Grimm!”

Louis whips around to see a fully recovered Agent Styles filling the doorway of Bus 1. “You are in direct violation of the Moderated Union of Menace’s primary law of organized villainy. You are acting if full costumed aggression without a license. I suggest you remove yourself from the property immediately. Or I will be forced to involve both M.U.M _and_ the X Faction in deciding your fate. Expect a bill.”

The Grimm takes half a step before deciding better of it and instead shouts, “Fine! But mark my words Megamind, you will taste my revenge soon enough!”

Louis shakes his head. “I can’t hear you! Because I hate you!”

He turns to Harry just as the Grimm’s shitty car is backing up through the hole in the fence. His blood is pounding in his ears. Harry nearly died. Because of that _lunatic._ And that gives him just enough courage to place a palm on Harry’s chest and slide it up to his shoulder, thumb grazing his neck where the disk nearly made contact. “Forgive me for saying this, but that was dead sexy what you just did there. I didn’t know citing codes and regulations could be so hot.”

Harry let out a shuddering breath and quirked a smile. “Well forgive _me_ for saying this, but saving my life was a major turn-on. Didn’t know near decapitation could be so hot.”

Louis grabs Harry by the back of the neck and draws him in for a bruising kiss. Harry wraps his long, muscular arms around Louis’ shoulders and licks hungrily into his mouth, suckles his bottom lip, tightens his grip when Louis lets out a whimpering moan.

_Harry wraps his long, muscular arms around Louis’ shoulders and licks hungrily into his mouth, suckles his bottom lip, tightens his grip when Louis lets out a whimpering moan._

_Harry wraps his long, muscular arms around Louis’ shoulders and licks hungrily into his mouth, suckles his bottom lip, tightens his grip when Louis lets out a whimpering moan._

The déjà vu effect of Harry’s super power is regrettably interrupted by the sound of sprinting footfalls on the grass. The two men turn, bracing for another ambush when they see Zayn and the Craic running towards them.

“Our distress beacons are going haywire, where’s the action?” Niall demands, eyes flitting all over the scene.

“You’re too late lads. Louise and the Banshee showed up due to a clerical error and Nick Grimshit showed up due to the universe’s cruel idea of a joke. But the situation has been neutralized. Thanks to my cat-like reflexes and Special Agent Styles’ knowledge of M.U.M. bylaws.”

Zayn’s and Niall’s shoulders fall in disappointment. “So we missed it? Damn, I got myself all pumped on the way over here,” Zayn whines.

“Don’t worry, we’re doing the real thing next week,” Louis assures them. “In the meantime, we will be undergoing a strict training regimen with the help of the X Faction. We begin tomorrow at 9am sharp. Don’t be late.”

Once the lads are appeased, Louis leads Harry back inside Bus 1. “My god, look at this place. This is too much of a disaster area, even for me.”

Harry lifts Louis up by his thighs and deposits him on the banquette table. “Wanna see if we can mess it up even more?” he suggests, smiling wickedly.

A thrill shoots up Louis’ spine. “I never back down from a challenge,” he replies. Harry kisses him hard, fists balling up in Louis’ stretchy suit.

Louis turns his head and Harry doesn’t miss a beat, mouthing at Louis’ neck. “I hope you know I expect you to use that power of yours to its full potential,” he says breathily. “Particularly when I come.”

Harry levels his gaze and drops his hands to Louis’ hips, pulling them forward with a jolt. “Not such a shit super power now, is it?”

 _No it is not,_ he thinks as Harry unzips his suit and he’s pushed onto his back. _No it is not._

FIN

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah so, I relied heavily on Venture Bros imagery and jargon for this, particularly from the episode Fallen Arches. If you've seen it, you know this already.
> 
> PLEASE leave comments, questions, and criticism! I would LOVE to hear anything you have to say even if it's "YOU SUCK AT ERRTHING"
> 
> Oh and sorry for the fade-to-black. If you want the sexy bits, just ask. There's a chance I could be persuaded to write it. Just seemed like a nice place to stop, that's all. 
> 
> Byeeeee!


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